


My World is Only You

by phantomhivemast3r



Series: Ineffable Fics [8]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1800s England, Aziraphale is a bit of a bastard, Confessions, Crowley is a Bit Anxious, F/F, Female-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), First Kiss, Footnotes, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27273958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomhivemast3r/pseuds/phantomhivemast3r
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley find each other at a party in 18th Century England. Conversations and confessions ensue, leading to an evening neither of them quite expected.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Fics [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1510436
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14
Collections: Ineffable Wives Exchange 2020





	My World is Only You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Waywarder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywarder/gifts).



_You showed me feelings I've never felt before  
We're making enemies, knocking on the devil's door  
But how can you expect me not to eat  
When the forbidden fruit tastes so sweet?_

_So let's be sinners to be saints  
And let's be winners by mistake  
The world may disapprove  
But my world is only you  
And if we're sinners then it feels like heaven to me_

-“Sinners” by Lauren Aquilina

* * *

**_England, 1740_ **

Crowley lurked at the edge of the grand ball, sneering into her wine glass as another man plucked up the courage to walk over and attempt a conversation. A party like this was certainly not her preferred scene, full of loud music and equally boisterous people on a night when all Crowley really wanted to do was sleep. But, Hell’s orders dictated that she must tempt one of the attendees into making a greedy financial decision that would eventually lead to bankruptcy, and who was she to deny her assignment[1].

Crowley used a quick miracle to divert the incoming man’s attention back to the woman he’d arrived with and let out a sigh. It seemed as though the only gentleman she _hadn’t_ talked to this evening was her target, who had yet to show up. Just as she started to debate the consequences of leaving early and falsifying her report to Hell, a sound cut through the crowd and made her eyes widen behind rounded glasses.

“Oh goodness, that really was _quite_ clever!” said the ethereal voice with a tinkling laugh that anyone but Crowley would have taken for genuine. However, Crowley could hear the mild annoyance in Aziraphale’s tone and promptly set off to investigate. She found the angel by the dessert table, caught up in conversation with a man leaning rather closely into Aziraphale’s personal space. A ripple of deep annoyance slithered up Crowley’s spine[2].

“Well, well, Aziraphale—fancy meeting _you_ here!” Crowley said, striding up to the angel’s side with a grin. She turned her smile on the man and he took an involuntary step back at the sharpness of her teeth.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed, relief evident in her tone. “How lovely to see you! And what impeccable timing; Jonathan and I were just finishing our conversation.”

“Oh, but I—” the man began to say, but knew he was finished when Crowley looped her arm through Aziraphale’s and physically turned her away.

“Alright, Angel?” Crowley asked as they walked towards the balcony, plucking a drink off a passing waiter’s tray and handing it to the woman-shaped being at her side.

“Yes, I’m perfectly fine; thank you dear,” Aziraphale replied, taking the drink and downing it in one go. Crowley raised an eyebrow, and she smiled sheepishly in response. “Ah, it’s been a long night. I usually don’t mind these sort of gatherings, but I must say the people at this one have been rather… aggressive.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Crowley responded, her gaze shifting down to Aziraphale’s crème and blue dress, which accentuated the more feminine features of her corporation in a way that made Crowley’s mouth run dry. Crowley herself wore a dress in a similar style, as was the fashion of the day, though hers was crafted from deep reds and black. Both dresses had a low neckline[3], a large bustle, and half-sleeves in which the dress fabric stopped at the elbow to be replaced with soft lace. The intricate embroidery throughout each outfit was a focal point; while Aziraphale’s dress contained mindless swirling patterns, if one looked hard enough they could find serpents coiling around each other throughout Crowley’s ensemble.

Though her eyes were shaded, Crowley knew Aziraphale caught her ogling a bit too long when she felt a light pinch on her arm. “Oi! Don’t get mad at _me_ when you’re the one letting everything hang out!”

“I am _not_ letting everything ‘hang out!’” Aziraphale said, turning up her nose. Crowley noticed, however, that the angel had yet to remove her arm from where it was still looped through hers. “This is the fashion of today, and while I would certainly prefer a higher neckline, it makes it a bit difficult to talk to people when I’m presumed as too ‘stuffy.’”

“But… you _are_ stuffy,” Crowley responded, then laughed at Aziraphale’s pout. “I’m only joking, Angel; you’re only boringly dull on rare occasions.”

Aziraphale rolled her eyes as they made it through the glass doors leading to the balcony. She snapped as the doors shut, locking them and also diverting attention from anyone else who might want to get some fresh air. She gently pulled her arm free of Crowley’s and walked to the edge of the balcony, sighing contentedly as she surveyed the night sky. The autumn air was crisp, a wayward breeze lifting a few ringlets of soft blonde hair that had escaped the intricate curls atop Aziraphale’s head.

Crowley stared, momentarily forgetting to keep up the ruse of breathing as a jumble of thoughts suddenly consumed her mind. These thoughts soon coalesced into:

 _My God—Satan—Someone… she’s absolutely gorgeous._

“You can really see the stars tonight,” Aziraphale commented, and Crowley could hear the smile in her voice. The angel pointed to a particularly bright cluster. “Oh! Didn’t you make that one, dear?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah,” Crowley said, snapping back to the present. She physically shook herself, trying to chase away the thoughts[4] and the pale blush on her face. Once sufficiently calm she sauntered to Aziraphale’s side and gripped the balcony railing with one hand, grounding herself with the cool stone as she followed the angel’s gaze. “I also made that one, those few over there, and… yeah, and that one right there.” She pointed to each star as she mentioned it, then mistakenly glanced at Aziraphale and promptly forgot how to breathe again.

The angel was watching her with a fondness Crowley had rarely seen. Aziraphale’s face was usually kind—she was an angel, of course, and a truly good one at that. Her default setting was “compassionate and reassuring.” However, that kind look often had an underlying quality to it, as if she were repeating the mantra: “Angels must love everyone, it’s my duty,” especially when dealing with the more unsavory side of humanity. After knowing her for so long, Crowley could tell when Aziraphale was looking at something she _truly_ adored, like a book she’d been after for decades or her favorite dessert.

And at that moment, Aziraphale was looking at _her_ in exactly the same way.

 _I’m seeing things,_ Crowley thought, an unbidden blush creeping up her neck. _My stupid fantasies are clouding what’s actually in front of me or… or maybe it’s the wine… that must be it._

“My dear…,” Aziraphale began, and as Crowley fully turned to face her she was acutely aware of how close they were. The only thing separating them was the ostentatious bustles of their dresses, which were very good at keeping unwanted people out of your personal space but were very counterproductive in situations like these.

“Hn?” Crowley choked out, unable to form a coherent word. Time slowed as Aziraphale reached out a hand, cautiously bringing soft fingertips towards Crowley’s flushed cheek. The demon’s breath quickened as the angel’s hand inched closer and closer. What felt like hours later, yet was still too soon for Crowley’s mind to catch up with, she felt the faint brush of trembling fingertips against her cheekbone and—

They both jumped violently as something slammed into one of the glass doors, breaking whatever spell they’d been under. They turned in unison, Aziraphale’s hand snatched back to her side as if ready to pull a flaming sword out of thin air, Crowley’s hackles raised and a hint of fangs visible behind red-painted lips.

“Oh for Satan’s sake,” Crowley groaned as she realized it had just been a drunk partygoer crashing quite spectacularly into a waiter, knocking them both down and into the door. She heard Aziraphale let out a shaky sigh as the angel fixedly watched the humans get to their feet. Only once things inside had gone back to normal did Aziraphale finally release the tension in her shoulders.

“I apologize for startling like that,” she began, wringing her hands together, looking at the floor. “I thought it might have been…”

“Yeah, me too,” Crowley agreed, sharing the mutual concern that their sides could pop in and check on them anytime they pleased, no warning necessary. “But it’s alright, even if they _had_ shown up, it’s not like we were doing anything… bad.” She waved her hands struggling to come up with an explanation. “Not… not cavorting with the enemy or something like that. I mean, that’s what we’d tell them at least, right?”

“Yes, yes, if we said that I’m sure we’d be…. We’d be fine.” Aziraphale bit her lip, still staring hard at the ground. Crowley stood absolutely still, waiting for her to speak again. Eventually, unable to bear the silence any longer, Crowley asked the biggest question currently plaguing her psyche[5].

“Angel… what _was_ that just now?”

Aziraphale’s eyes snapped up to meet hers, wide and frightened.

 _No, not… frightened,_ Crowley thought with a frown. _Worried?_

“I… I missed you,” Aziraphale said, voice nothing more than a whisper. If it weren’t for Crowley’s demonic senses, she probably wouldn’t have been able to hear her. As it was, Crowley _did_ hear, and her mouth dropped open in shock.

“You… what?” she asked, just as quietly.

“I said…” Aziraphale trailed off, bit her lip, looked everywhere but at Crowley, then focused back onto the demon and took a large breath. “I said that I missed you, Crowley. A-And I’ve realized that I tend to miss you whenever we’re apart.”

Crowley made a sound without any consonants, taking a small step back in shock. Crowley had felt the same way for a long time[6], but wasn’t sure that it was a mutual feeling. She’d gotten used to the unrequited pining over the years, and even when there had been vague hints that Aziraphale might feel the same way, they were quashed by talk of “sides” and “hereditary enemies.” By this point, Crowley had resolved to seeing every opportunity she spent with Aziraphale as a sort of ironic blessing, cursed to covet the thing she wanted most but unable to ever have it.

The fact that Aziraphale might feel the same way was _not_ a possibility Crowley thought existed outside of her own mind.

“I’m… I’m just as surprised by this revelation as you are,” Aziraphale said, playing with the ring on her right hand nervously. “And I understand if you don’t reciprocate the feeling—you’re certainly under no obligation to, and—”

“Oh Angel—Angel no!” Crowley exclaimed, realizing that Aziraphale had taken her backwards step for a rebuff. She quickly closed the gap between them[7] and took Aziraphale’s hands, stopping their nervous fidgeting. The angel looked up at her, and now there definitely _was_ fear in her eyes. But, surprisingly, it wasn’t fear of Heaven’s wrath—it was fear of something else that Crowley was all too familiar with, but entirely unprepared for seeing on her angel’s face.

Aziraphale thought that Crowley might reject her.

 _Aziraphale._ Thought that _Crowley._ Might reject _her_.

At this utterly unfathomable thought, Crowley began to laugh. It was a wild, unruly sound, making her body shake and tears build at the corners of her eyes, though she couldn’t tell if they were from the ridiculousness of the situation or from her own worries being reflected back at her. Aziraphale watched her, mouth agape, before snatching her hands back and turning away.

“Well, how _rude!_ If you’re just going to make fun of me, I’ll be on my way—”

“Aziraphale… Aziraphale wait!” Crowley exclaimed through gasping breaths. She’d heard a tremor in the angel’s voice, and that certainly wouldn’t do. She reached out and caught Aziraphale’s sleeve, making the angel whip around and yank her arm away, holy fire burning in her eyes.

“Crowley, I swear to the Almighty, I’m _not_ in the mood for you to—”

“I missed you too, you daft angel!”

At this confession, the entire world seemed to still. Crowley had stopped laughing, all humor at the situation snuffed out after the realization that Aziraphale might actually walk away for good. The demon stood limply, face unsure of what expression it should wear, and even the noise of the party had ceased as they gazed at each other.

“Crowley… did you stop time?” Aziraphale questioned, sparing a glance through the doors to see the humans frozen in place. Crowley’s eyes darted to the sky, and over the top of the glasses Aziraphale could just barely make out that her irises were completely golden.

“Sorry, I just… couldn’t deal with all that noise for this conversation,” Crowley admitted. She heard Aziraphale’s light chuckle and found another one of those beaming smiles when she met the angel’s gaze.

“My dear, I…,” Aziraphale began again, but for once it seemed as if _she_ were unable to think of what to say.

“Angel,” Crowley began, deciding to take her chance. It was now or never. She paused for a few seconds, gathering her thoughts as best she could, then cleared her throat. “Aziraphale… I missed you, too. I _always_ miss you when you’re not around. I’m… not sure how to describe it, only that it feels like there’s a part of me that’s lost whenever we’re apart. I, um… I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but it seems like you do, y’know, since you brought it up first, so I-I thought I’d just… lay it all out there.”

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly, and this time her fingers did actually brush Crowley’s cheek. Crowley instinctively nuzzled into Aziraphale’s palm, realizing a moment too late that this physical affection might be unwanted—might be too much, too fast. But, when she tried to pull away Aziraphale quickly placed her other hand behind Crowley’s head, grasping her hair gently but firmly enough to keep her in place. Suddenly, their faces were closer than they’d ever been. Crowley could feel Aziraphale’s breath against her lips and for once in her long, long existence, she decided to make a move before questioning it first.

Aziraphale’s lips were even softer than expected. She tasted faintly of wine and sweets, but mostly of _Aziraphale._ Crowley remained still as a statue, waiting for the angel to reciprocate before moving forward. After only a moment’s hesitation, Aziraphale was kissing Crowley back, softly at first and then fiercely, possessively. The swipe of a forked tongue against her lips made Aziraphale moan, the sound traveling straight to Crowley’s core.

It was eons before they parted, and it was only because Crowley’s grip on time began to slip as the emotions overwhelmed her, crashing through her mind a sea that ebbed and flowed and screamed:

_This is real._

_No, this_ can’t _be real._

 _Actually yes, this is_ definitely _real._

When they tried to break away, they found themselves more tangled than anticipated. Astoundingly, they were still upright, though if Aziraphale were tipped back any farther she would need the help of a miracle to keep her on her feet. Their hair was awry, random pieces pulled free of the carefully-crafted up-dos as hands had grabbed and tugged and held on. Crowley made sure Aziraphale was stable before snapping her fingers; their hair and rumbled dresses righted themselves and time restarted, the noise of the party drowning out the last of their panting, recovering breaths.

“…Well,” Crowley said eventually, sparing Aziraphale a side-eyed grin as they watched the humans inside. Her glasses has gotten knocked off somewhere in the middle of all the kissing, and with another snap they appeared back in her hand. She tucked them in the middle of her bodice, noting Aziraphale’s pleased little smile at this action. “You certainly weren’t the person I was supposed to tempt tonight, but I can’t say I’m complaining.”

“Oh, stop it, you wily serpent,” Aziraphale chided, giving Crowley’s arm a light smack, though there was no malice behind it. A sudden thought occurred to Crowley and she grasped Aziraphale’s hands again, squeezing them to get her full attention.

“That was a joke; you know I’d never _actually_ tempt you, right?” Crowley’s eyes were full of sincerity, and Aziraphale nodded.

“I know, darling,” she replied, then tilted her head questioningly as Crowley made another unintelligible noise.

“You’ve… never said _that_ one before.” Crowley blushed, eyes darting to the side. “’Darling,’ I mean. ‘S always ‘dear’ or ‘dear girl’ or… or sssome variation of that.”

Aziraphale smiled so radiantly that Crowley felt she were staring straight into the sun.

“I think with what you just initiated, the least I can do is give you another term of endearment meant only for you,” Aziraphale said, reaching up to caress Crowley’s face again, and the demon melted at the touch.

“So, um…,” Crowley said after a time, reluctant to let the moment pass but knowing that there was a lot to address. “What, uh… what does this mean for… _us?_ I mean, that was amazing, what we just did, and I’d very much like to do it again, but I don’t want to, um… misinterpret things?”

As Crowley had expected since the first press of their lips together, familiar doubt began to creep back into her mind. Aziraphale was a hedonist, and both of them knew it. Crowley didn’t want to misunderstand these actions as more than they were and needed to know if Aziraphale simply wanted to add more physical intimacy to their relationship, or if this was something more—something that Crowley once thought might have been impossible, but now wasn’t so sure.

“Well, what did it mean for _you,_ Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, holding the demon’s gaze steadily. Crowley let out a huff and pressed a quick kiss to Aziraphale’s palm.

“That’s a loaded question, angel.”

“You asked it first.”

“…Right.” Crowley took a deep breath and reached up to cover the warm hand on her face with her own. “I think it means we have a _lot_ to talk about, and we should probably talk about it tonight, or we might lose our nerve.”

“I agree.” Aziraphale gave another beaming smile and then took her hand back, clasping both in front of her waist. “I’m staying in a rather nice little place nearby; it’s quiet and would be a perfect place to talk. You’re more than welcome to stay the evening, if you’d like.”

“Oh _my_ , Angel, are you asking me back to yours?” Crowley said, wiggling her eyebrows, but the hungry look in Aziraphale’s eyes made the rest of the jibe die on the tip of her tongue[8].

“It seems as though I am, doesn’t it?” the angel responded primly, and at that moment Crowley was certain Aziraphale knew _exactly_ what she was doing to her. Before Crowley could freeze time again and suggest they have whatever “conversation” they were going to have right there and then, Aziraphale held up a hand with a laugh. “Patience, demon. Do you have a job to do tonight, or were you merely visiting the party? Oh, dear, I never even asked that earlier, did I?”

“Sssod the job,” Crowley replied, a hiss slipping out unintentionally. “It’s not top priority; Hell won’t mind if I get the paperwork in a few days late. What about you?”

“I finished my assignment earlier this evening; I was just trying to enjoy a few more of those delectable pastries they’re serving before I left, when that man decided to strike up a conversation.” Aziraphale rolled her eyes. “Honestly, the audacity of some people.”

“Mm,” Crowley hummed in affirmation, the exaggerated once-over she gave Aziraphale now completely obvious without the protective shading of her sunglasses. The angel instantly flushed crimson, the color starting high in her cheeks and swiftly rushing down to her chest. Crowley bit back a strangled noise. “Right, let’s get back to your place because there are a lot of things I want to say and also a lot of things I want to _do_ —provided you’re amenable, of course.”

“Oh, I think I’d be _quite_ amenable for what you may have in mind,” Aziraphale responded, and to Crowley’s utter astonishment, she actually _winked._ Then, suddenly, she began walking back towards the doors leading into the party, sparing a glance over her shoulder as she called: “Come along, darling!”

As always, Crowley was helpless to resist. Without hesitation, she followed her angel into a night of long-held confessions and a happiness that never seemed to end.

* * *

[1] Not that she truly had a choice in the matter, anyway. The job would get done regardless, and if Crowley wasn’t able to accomplish the task, another demon would be sent in her place and she would have literal hell to pay for her failure. [Return to text]

[2] She knew Aziraphale was perfectly capable of handling herself in most situations, but the flash of anger was so sudden and primal that Crowley was unable to stop it. [Return to text]

[3] Bordering on dangerous for Aziraphale—Crowley couldn’t imagine how she had even gotten _into_ the dress, let alone how she was keeping everything in place. She reasoned a miracle must be at play. [Return to text]

[4] As best she could, for they’d been increasingly hard to get rid of as the years wore on. [Return to text]

[5] She knew this was probably the stupidest decision she’d ever make, but she couldn’t stop herself. Crowley had never been known to shy away from tough questions, after all. [Return to text]

[6] Since Eden, if she was being honest. [Return to text]

[7] As much as she could with those damned dresses… she longed for the time large, unwieldy skirts went out of fashion, and vowed to burn every single one on that day. [Return to text]

[8] It was one of Aziraphale’s many famished looks Crowley had seen when they’d dined together. This one was fairly rare, and reserved for her absolute favorite meals—a dark desire peeking out of sky blue eyes that nearly sent Crowley over the edge when coupled with Aziraphale swiping her tongue expectantly across her lips and then moaning into her dessert. Crowley had occasionally wondered what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of this captivating gaze, but, as with everything else that happened that evening, wasn’t actually prepared for it to happen. [Return to text]

**Author's Note:**

> This fic started out completely different, but then this idea popped into my head and I had to run with it. Hope you enjoyed!


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